


The Big Picture

by Chubstilinski



Series: Chubby Teen Wolf Tumblr Prompt Fics [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Derek, BAMF Stiles, Car Sex, Chubby Derek, Chubby Kink, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Hurt Derek, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Derek, M/M, Monster of the Week, Sex on a Car, Sort of? - Freeform, chaser stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chubstilinski/pseuds/Chubstilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had like, a really, really big crush on the guy. He only realized it once Derek had left, and there was suddenly a surly werewolf shaped hole in his life where Derek should have been. But he’s sure it was always sort of there, lurking underneath every interaction they had.</p>
<p>Then Derek had come back sort of…soft. And Stiles, well, Stiles was way into that. Not that he hadn’t been into all those muscles being on display at literally every available moment where it was even remotely okay to be shirtless, but. There was something about how he was now that made Stiles’s blood run hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Picture

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Would it be okay for you to write me a sexy fic where it starts all hot and heavy but at the end its all sweet and fluffy and beautiful? - waterchuck

"Oh,  _fuck_.” Derek was on top of Stiles, weight pinning him to the hood of the Camaro. Stiles was grasping at his love handles, fingertips sinking into the plush fat. 

"Ah,  _Derek_.” He was already breathless and needy, but oh, Derek was the same, which was like the biggest ego trip Stiles had ever experienced. 

Derek was groaning into the skin of his neck, and as if he couldn’t hold back anymore, he dropped his full weight down on Stiles and ground his erection into his thigh. Stiles cried out a loud, broken sound. 

Derek was  _heavy_ , frame loaded with muscle, layered with softness. It felt incredible against him; belly pressing into Stiles’s flat stomach, and Stiles was  _writhing_ , gasping helplessly. Derek’s mouth was working a hot trail up his throat, scratching his skin with the scruff of his short beard. 

Stiles had been waiting, wanting this to happen for so long, he’d imagined it in hundreds of different ways, in different places. But reality was  _so much better_  than anything he could have come up with. 

It was weird, and imperfect; the metal at his back was too cold, Stiles was too inexperienced, too desperate, bruised from the fall he’d taken, and Derek was actually giving him some borderline painful beard burn, but it was so  _real_ , and so full of pent-up feeling his heart could barely contain it. It was like they were inevitable, like they’d been working towards this moment since the beginning. 

***

It started the way most things did, with them: an extremely dangerous life-or-death scenario. 

As soon as the portal inside the Nematon had opened, it had unleashed a veritable circus freak show on Beacon Hills. No, seriously, it was  _even worse_  than before. In this particular instance, there were actual literal hellhounds roaming the Beacon Hills Wildlife Preserve, and the pack had split into teams to corner them there, make sure they couldn’t get to the town.

Recently, when they did the team-split, it was usually Stiles and Derek paired together. Stiles didn’t really know why, but he wasn’t complaining. He’d take any available moment to tease, talk to, or otherwise torment Derek he could get.

Because Stiles had like, a really, really big crush on the guy. He only realized it once Derek had left, and there was suddenly a surly werewolf shaped hole in his life where Derek should have been. But he’s sure it was always sort of there, lurking underneath every interaction they had.

Then Derek had come back sort of…soft. And Stiles, well, Stiles was  _way into that_. Not that he hadn’t been into all those muscles being on display at literally every available moment where it was even remotely okay to be shirtless, but. There was something about how he was now that made Stiles’s blood run hot.

Although, the dramatic decline in shirtlessness was kind of a bummer.

Anyway, so they were on patrol, Stiles armed with a fancy supernatural creature killing Argent gun complete with a silencer, and Derek armed with, well, himself.

Stiles had been chattering about which Hogwarts houses they all belong in for like half an hour. Derek really shouldn’t have mentioned he used to read Harry Potter all the time as a kid; it was really Derek’s own fault.

“But like, I’m torn, you know, because on one hand you’re like insanely loyal and one of the most hardworking people I know, but on the other it’s like, courage and bravery? Check. Nerve? Check. Yeah, just kidding, you’re like the Gryffindoriest Gryffindor ever, who am I trying to kid here? You got that whole selfless jumping headfirst into danger to save your friends shtick down pat, man, I swear.”

Stiles was too busy mentally high-fiving himself on the light flush on Derek’s pudgy cheeks and the tiny, barely there little smile on his lips, to see it coming.

Derek’s eyes widened, gesturing Stiles to shut up with one hand, while the other planted itself firmly on the center of Stiles’s chest.

Stiles froze, heart beating frantically, and he’d like to say it was out of a sense of self-preservation, but he was self aware enough to know he didn’t really have one of those, and it was more the heat of Derek’s palm seeping through his skin that did it.

They stood like that for a few seconds, but Stiles couldn’t hear or see anything unusual. He knew Derek could sense things he couldn’t and he was so curious to know what it was. Stiles almost asked, but Derek turned to him with a ‘shut the fuck up’ look clear in his eyes, and that’s when it happened.

Stiles barely caught a glimpse of fiery red eyes set in the head of a huge black beast before he was shoved to the ground, out of the way. He landed harshly on a branch and the wind was knocked out of him, but Stiles scrambled up and moved towards the unmistakable sound of attack, gun drawn and hammer cocked, ready to shoot.

It was vicious, animal against animal, but the thing outweighed Derek by probably more than a hundred pounds of solid muscle. Stiles couldn’t get a clear shot, they were moving around too much and the hellhound was wrapped in a perpetual cloak of smoke.

He was getting desperate, shaking with fear. Stiles wouldn’t let Derek die, he couldn’t.

It had Derek pinned beneath its big paws, a horrible growl emanating from its very being, and for a brief moment, Stiles could see its grotesque face from behind the haze. Stiles didn’t hesitate; he took a deep breath and shot the thing right between the eyes with all the training his father instilled in him. The hellhound fell instantly on top of Derek’s prone body, lifeless and bleeding all over the forest floor.

“Derek!” Stiles dropped the gun and ran over to him, sliding on his knees to where he’d fallen. He used all his body weight to push against the beast, trying to roll it off, but in the end, it was Derek who managed to shove the thing away, and he lied breathing heavily on the ground, claw marks littering his torso.

Stiles’s hands fluttered helplessly over the wounds, and Derek’s hand caught his wrist in a familiar move that left his heart beating hard in his chest. “I’m okay, Stiles.”

With those words, Stiles exhaled a shaky breath and despite himself, he found himself slowly relaxing. “Don’t look okay to me, dude.”

“It’s healing.” Stiles nodded, realized his hand was rubbing up and down an uninjured part of Derek’s arm, and that Derek’s hand was still gripping his wrist tight.

“Fucking Gryffindors,” Stiles muttered, and Derek smiled, just a little, and it was unbearably beautiful. Stiles was overcome with the need to kiss him, so he did. Without thinking, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Derek’s, hard and fast, curling his fingers around his neck.

Fuck. Stiles’s eyes shot open, and he stumbled off the ground, away from Derek, and proceeded to freak the fuck out. _Why had he done that_?

But Derek used his unfair preternatural speed to catch up to him, grab his face in both hands, and lock their lips together again.

Stiles was so shocked, his eyes were still wide-open, hands grasping at air for too long. Derek almost pulled away before Stiles came back to himself and grabbed his torn Henley in both fists, drawing him in closer. He felt a vibrating growly sound against his lips, gasped, and Derek used the opportunity to lick right into his mouth with deep, dirty swipes of tongue, spreading fire over his skin.

But Stiles had to pull away, saying, “Wait, wait,” to look at his torn chest. Well, freshly healed chest, pink with fresh scar tissue. “Whoa.” He looked up to find Derek’s eyes. “You’re all better.”

“I am a werewolf,” Derek said with a warm smirk, and Stiles grinned, elated, attacked his lips with his own, and it was so, so fucking good.

That’s when Derek pushed him hard against the hood of his car, and Stiles came apart under him.

*****

Stiles was shirtless, chest flushed and panting and Derek’s wide hands were  _all over him_. He shuddered under all the attention, but needed his skin against Derek’s, pronto.

He tugged at the hem of Derek’s shirt, and he could  _feel_  his hesitation. Perplexed, Stiles looked up at his strangely impassive expression. “Derek? 

With seeming reluctance, Derek met his eyes. He was fucking  _blushing_ , eyes vulnerable and hesitant. Stiles tilted his head, curious, he said, “Let me see you.”

Derek stood up, ripped off his Henley and tossed it to the ground, meeting Stiles’s eyes again with defiance, as if daring him to say something. 

But Stiles. Stiles was  _speechless_. He had noticed the weight Derek had been gaining, but admiring it from under the confines of Derek’s baggier-than-usual clothes was so, so different. 

His little belly was perfect and round. Love handles spilled over his waistband, and Stiles itched to have his hands on them again, cup his softened pecs, run them over those strong biceps.  _God_  Derek was beautiful. 

But he was just standing there, not coming closer, jaw clenched as if preparing to take a hit, and finally it clicked. Stiles was such an idiot. 

"Derek," he whispered, hopping off the hood of the car and sliding in close. Stiles splayed a hand on Derek’s belly, feeling the softness there and he gasped, licked his lips, but Derek nearly jumped away when their skin touched. 

His eyes were focused somewhere over Stiles’s shoulder so Stiles cupped Derek’s slightly rounder cheek in one hand, keeping the other on his stomach, and tilted his face so they were eye to eye and so, so close. “You’re perfect.”

Before Derek could protest, Stiles closed the distance, placing a sweet kiss to Derek’s lips. Derek melted into him, catching Stiles’s lip between his teeth. Stiles’s breath stuttered out of him as Derek started leading him backwards, hands firmly planted on either side of Stiles’s face. He settled his own hands on Derek’s plump waist and  _squeezed_. Derek shuddered in response, growling in the back of his throat. 

Finally Stiles fell back against the sleek lines of the Camaro again. He wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist to draw him close and Stiles moaned into Derek’s mouth at the feeling of his soft, warm bare chest against his own, his chubby belly squished against him. 

They never even got their pants off, rutting against each other frantically, wild with need until they were moaning, shuddering, and coming in their pants like teenagers. Okay, so Stiles was technically still a teenager, whatever. Still, he was pretty sure he had more stamina than that, come on.

But Derek didn’t look at all disappointed in Stiles’s performance. He collapsed on the hood next to Stiles, looking boneless and more content than Stiles had ever seen him, ever. Stiles couldn’t help himself; He splayed a hand over Derek’s belly, kneading the soft fat.

“So you really like me like this, huh?” It sounded teasing, but Stiles could hear the real question underneath.

Stiles said, “You’re an idiot,” but what he meant was  _I’m an idiot, I should have told you how beautiful you were sooner._ He had no idea if Derek got the message, but he smiled as if he did, chubby cheeks rounding and eyes crinkling with almost-laughter in a way Stiles had never seen. Stiles wanted to see it every day, for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://chubstilinski.tumblr.com)!


End file.
